The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
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Ken
PlayingWithDollsologist
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Mount Gay is good! Especially for the price (here in the states, at least).
I've ordered mojitos at a few different places and always been disappointed. Most of the time it tastes like rum and sugar that someone spritzed with a lime. Granted my recipe is time and materials intensive, and to make them that way to sell would be very expensive, but you simply can't be shy about the lime and mint in that drink.
Mount Gay is good! Especially for the price (here in the states, at least).
I've ordered mojitos at a few different places and always been disappointed. Most of the time it tastes like rum and sugar that someone spritzed with a lime. Granted my recipe is time and materials intensive, and to make them that way to sell would be very expensive, but you simply can't be shy about the lime and mint in that drink.
Virtual Kevorkian
New member
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
On a scale from threeve to twelveteen, exactly how badass are you and please detail how you became to be this cool.
On a scale from threeve to twelveteen, exactly how badass are you and please detail how you became to be this cool.
Virtual Kevorkian
New member
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Actually, in all seriousness...
You mentioned in Rainmakers 'Cologne' thread that you were never into it, but a ladyfriend you were courting at the time was trying to turn you. Did that ever work?
Actually, in all seriousness...
You mentioned in Rainmakers 'Cologne' thread that you were never into it, but a ladyfriend you were courting at the time was trying to turn you. Did that ever work?
Ken
PlayingWithDollsologist
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
I've since found two that I do like. I don't wear them that often presently because my job has me sweating a lot, so there's not much point. Anyway, for day to day I like Polo Black, and for going out at night I like Armani Code. I try to keep it fairly subtle, and it always goes on underneath my clothes. Anyone who smells it, it's either very faint or they're very close (and probably have me at least partly undressed...)
So yeah...I've changed my mind on that considerably. But don't expect to smell it very strongly on me.
I've since found two that I do like. I don't wear them that often presently because my job has me sweating a lot, so there's not much point. Anyway, for day to day I like Polo Black, and for going out at night I like Armani Code. I try to keep it fairly subtle, and it always goes on underneath my clothes. Anyone who smells it, it's either very faint or they're very close (and probably have me at least partly undressed...)
So yeah...I've changed my mind on that considerably. But don't expect to smell it very strongly on me.
Virtual Kevorkian
New member
Ninja Monkey
New member
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
No cop out, I'm the same, The Beatles take up half my iPod for cryin' out loud...
Now for questions...
Megadeth or Metallica?
Red or Blue?
Humbuckers or Singles?
Grateful Dead, Yep or Nope?
Stance on music games?
And...
What was the happiest moment of your life?
No cop out, I'm the same, The Beatles take up half my iPod for cryin' out loud...
Now for questions...
Megadeth or Metallica?
Red or Blue?
Humbuckers or Singles?
Grateful Dead, Yep or Nope?
Stance on music games?
And...
What was the happiest moment of your life?
Ken
PlayingWithDollsologist
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Metallica
Blue
4-wire humbuckers
Grateful Dead
And good question! I'm going to hop in the shower real fast, I'll answer it when I'm back...
Metallica
Blue
4-wire humbuckers
Grateful Dead
And good question! I'm going to hop in the shower real fast, I'll answer it when I'm back...
ratherdashing
Kablamminator
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Are you any closer to answering my party question?
It's cool if you don't feel up to it.
Are you any closer to answering my party question?
It's cool if you don't feel up to it.
Ken
PlayingWithDollsologist
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Sorry guys, I've been away from the house for the past two days. A much needed reprieve, even if I was at work for a part of it.
Happiest moment of my life (so far. I'm 22 and I don't intend to peak early). Freshman year of high school: Winning the 2002 WGI Indoor Percussion World Championship. I was playing guitar with a drum line, doing a theatrical (as opposed to a traditional marching) show that ended with selections from "The Grudge" by Tool. Really dark show, really intense performance. It was a total blast. I didn't start playing until about 2/3 of the way through the performance when the Tool music started, and even then I was behind a curtain, so the guitar just kind of came from nowhere. There were two of us, the other guy was more of a "stunt" guitarist. They put us up on 7 foot tall platforms, and the curtains were another 7 feet high from there. So all through the show, there are just these big, 14 foot tall black pillars in the back of the set. All our set pieces had black curtains suspended over them.
For the finale of the show, all the curtains fell and everything was painted in flames as though it were on fire. The most dramatic part on the videos was the platforms in the back: the curtains fall and there are two rockstars with guitars pounding the song out.
We were in two competition circuits that season: the Indiana Percussion Association for the state championship and the Winter Guard International circuit for world competition. We got hosed most every weekend we were on the IPA circuit, and meanwhile were all but untouchable in WGI competition once we really figured the show out. It made no sense: WGI was supposed to be the big show, tougher competition. Our judging tapes from the IPA shows were always good, but the scores didn't reflect that. At semi-state, there was a guitar malfunction -- I had turned the volume down on my guitar previously, so when the finale of the show hit, there was no guitar whatsoever (the stunt guitarist had a much, much smaller amp and could barely be heard). I was seven different shades of pissed after the show, to the point that our directors, who would have normally ripped me to pieces, saw how upset I was with what had happened and instead focused on calming me down. They reminded me about how well we'd done on the WGI circuit, that the IPA judges didn't get the show in the first place, and we still had the world finals to worry about. Had that state circuit show been the last of the season, I probably would have smashed my guitar to pieces.
The next few weekends we tore apart every bit of competition on the WGI circuit... other groups were closing on our lead, but we'd been tightening up the technical aspects of our performance, and no one could touch our visual effects.
Sorry guys, I've been away from the house for the past two days. A much needed reprieve, even if I was at work for a part of it.
Happiest moment of my life (so far. I'm 22 and I don't intend to peak early). Freshman year of high school: Winning the 2002 WGI Indoor Percussion World Championship. I was playing guitar with a drum line, doing a theatrical (as opposed to a traditional marching) show that ended with selections from "The Grudge" by Tool. Really dark show, really intense performance. It was a total blast. I didn't start playing until about 2/3 of the way through the performance when the Tool music started, and even then I was behind a curtain, so the guitar just kind of came from nowhere. There were two of us, the other guy was more of a "stunt" guitarist. They put us up on 7 foot tall platforms, and the curtains were another 7 feet high from there. So all through the show, there are just these big, 14 foot tall black pillars in the back of the set. All our set pieces had black curtains suspended over them.
For the finale of the show, all the curtains fell and everything was painted in flames as though it were on fire. The most dramatic part on the videos was the platforms in the back: the curtains fall and there are two rockstars with guitars pounding the song out.
We were in two competition circuits that season: the Indiana Percussion Association for the state championship and the Winter Guard International circuit for world competition. We got hosed most every weekend we were on the IPA circuit, and meanwhile were all but untouchable in WGI competition once we really figured the show out. It made no sense: WGI was supposed to be the big show, tougher competition. Our judging tapes from the IPA shows were always good, but the scores didn't reflect that. At semi-state, there was a guitar malfunction -- I had turned the volume down on my guitar previously, so when the finale of the show hit, there was no guitar whatsoever (the stunt guitarist had a much, much smaller amp and could barely be heard). I was seven different shades of pissed after the show, to the point that our directors, who would have normally ripped me to pieces, saw how upset I was with what had happened and instead focused on calming me down. They reminded me about how well we'd done on the WGI circuit, that the IPA judges didn't get the show in the first place, and we still had the world finals to worry about. Had that state circuit show been the last of the season, I probably would have smashed my guitar to pieces.
The next few weekends we tore apart every bit of competition on the WGI circuit... other groups were closing on our lead, but we'd been tightening up the technical aspects of our performance, and no one could touch our visual effects.
Ken
PlayingWithDollsologist
Re: The Well LXXIX: Ken - Life After Barbie
Flash forward to the night of the world finals performance...
Everything in the show went perfectly. We had a little swagger going in, but as soon as set up began (groups have something like 10 minutes or so to set up, perform and tear down...we had a small army of volunteer parents helping to get everything in place in just a few minutes) it was all business. Every note was tighter, every step sharp, every movement of the scenery exactly where it should have been. I finish my character role as a "demon" in the show and run behind the scenery to grab my guitar and get up on my podium. (my heart's racing now just going back over these few moments)
I start in right on cue with the pit...everything feels great, we're locked in tight. We had a great energy from one another and it was just flowing through us. The curtains drop and I launch into every downstroke from my shoulders, headbanging furiously (which was a little atypical from the rest of the season).
We hit our last set in the show and stick the last note perfectly. The pit is staring coldly from my left up at the judges booth. The battery is dead center eight yards in front of me at a cold stop. I'm surprised I didn't break any strings with the last downstroke, my forearm muting my guitar. Sweat drips in my eyes as I stare up as well. A split second ago, the gymnasium was filled with the sounds of all Hell. Now, a moment later, you could hear a pin drop. Nobody dares move a muscle. We want the judges to know how badly we want this competition.
What seemed like ten minutes was at most ten seconds. Shaken from their stunned silence, the entire audience erupts. Our lead snare player gives the cue to break and we scramble to break the show down and get the heck off the mat. We're all hot, sweating and high on adrenaline. Through all the hardship and mishap of the season, in our very last performance we had left every ounce of every bit of energy, rage, frustration and passion for this show, our show, on a university arena floor in Dayton, OH. We were drained, and as much as we enjoyed the show it was also a relief to have the burden of the past months of the season off our back. We were sure we had placed in the top five, which in and of itself would be a huge accomplishment.
We head back to the hotel to shower and get dinner, then on to the awards ceremony. Each group filed in to the performance floor. One by one, schools are called. In my head I start counting it down...
"Oh man, good...we made it in the top 12"
...
"Top 10...great. We had a good season, we deserve this recognition."
...
"S**t we DID make the top 5..."
...
"Top 3?!"
...
"Oh man I can't believe we got sec..."
...
*jaw on floor*
We couldn't believe it. We'd actually placed first. I may not have made it seem so earlier in the story, but we were up against some tight competition. As I recall, we blew out some expected rivals. That day we posted a record setting score for our division in world finals (a 98 or so, I believe...). We'd rocked a packed house, gotten nods from some big sponsors like Vic Firth (they invited us to chill in their booth earlier in the long weekend after seeing a prelims show), had shaken the monkey on our backs from a lowpoint at semi state, and had kept with our record in the season of (quite frankly) setting the bar on the world circuit. I never got a class ring while I was in high school, never really cared to. But I did get a world championship ring, and a membership into a small, elite club of musicians.
Flash forward to the night of the world finals performance...
Everything in the show went perfectly. We had a little swagger going in, but as soon as set up began (groups have something like 10 minutes or so to set up, perform and tear down...we had a small army of volunteer parents helping to get everything in place in just a few minutes) it was all business. Every note was tighter, every step sharp, every movement of the scenery exactly where it should have been. I finish my character role as a "demon" in the show and run behind the scenery to grab my guitar and get up on my podium. (my heart's racing now just going back over these few moments)
I start in right on cue with the pit...everything feels great, we're locked in tight. We had a great energy from one another and it was just flowing through us. The curtains drop and I launch into every downstroke from my shoulders, headbanging furiously (which was a little atypical from the rest of the season).
We hit our last set in the show and stick the last note perfectly. The pit is staring coldly from my left up at the judges booth. The battery is dead center eight yards in front of me at a cold stop. I'm surprised I didn't break any strings with the last downstroke, my forearm muting my guitar. Sweat drips in my eyes as I stare up as well. A split second ago, the gymnasium was filled with the sounds of all Hell. Now, a moment later, you could hear a pin drop. Nobody dares move a muscle. We want the judges to know how badly we want this competition.
What seemed like ten minutes was at most ten seconds. Shaken from their stunned silence, the entire audience erupts. Our lead snare player gives the cue to break and we scramble to break the show down and get the heck off the mat. We're all hot, sweating and high on adrenaline. Through all the hardship and mishap of the season, in our very last performance we had left every ounce of every bit of energy, rage, frustration and passion for this show, our show, on a university arena floor in Dayton, OH. We were drained, and as much as we enjoyed the show it was also a relief to have the burden of the past months of the season off our back. We were sure we had placed in the top five, which in and of itself would be a huge accomplishment.
We head back to the hotel to shower and get dinner, then on to the awards ceremony. Each group filed in to the performance floor. One by one, schools are called. In my head I start counting it down...
"Oh man, good...we made it in the top 12"
...
"Top 10...great. We had a good season, we deserve this recognition."
...
"S**t we DID make the top 5..."
...
"Top 3?!"
...
"Oh man I can't believe we got sec..."
...
*jaw on floor*
We couldn't believe it. We'd actually placed first. I may not have made it seem so earlier in the story, but we were up against some tight competition. As I recall, we blew out some expected rivals. That day we posted a record setting score for our division in world finals (a 98 or so, I believe...). We'd rocked a packed house, gotten nods from some big sponsors like Vic Firth (they invited us to chill in their booth earlier in the long weekend after seeing a prelims show), had shaken the monkey on our backs from a lowpoint at semi state, and had kept with our record in the season of (quite frankly) setting the bar on the world circuit. I never got a class ring while I was in high school, never really cared to. But I did get a world championship ring, and a membership into a small, elite club of musicians.
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